Explain My Dream to Me
Here's my dream from last night.
I'm walking on a path through the woods. It's a lovely day, sunny and warm, in a very nice park-like section of cheery woodland. On the path in front of me I see Hillary Clinton in a nice track suit half-walking half-jogging towards me. She is being pursued by a dimetrodon. I ask the Senator why she isn't running for her life. She explains that the dimetrodon is not very fast and that she is in no danger at her present pace. I look down the path and see that Mrs. Clinton is correct; the dimetrodon waddles at a pretty good clip, but it is easy to stay ahead of it.
I walk down a parallel path, tracking the progress of the dimetrodon as it chases the former First Lady. That's when I realize that the sail-finned pelycosaur is approaching a larger group of people down the path. While Hillary Clinton can be trusted to defend herself, not all the people picnicking in the woods are so resourceful. It's clearly time to act.
I rush up next to the dimetrodon and wrap my arms around its body. How I manage to encircle its three-foot-tall, rigid sail is, as Shakespeare would say, "the stuff dreams are made of." Using my super strength, I lift it off the ground. Naturally, the solution is to fly it back to where it came from, so I take to the air.
The dimetrodon, understandably concerned at being hoisted off the ground and flown away, especially with such a delectable Democrat just a few feet down the path, expresses its anger by biting my left hand. I am invincible, of course, and my skin cannot be pierced by the creature's teeth, but it hurts all the same. To discourage the animal from biting me further, I sink my own teeth into its right shoulder--just enough to warn, not to draw blood. Because that would be weird and gross, tasting the blood of a living mammal-like-reptile from the Permian Period. Surprised and chastened, the dimetrodon stops biting me.
That's when I woke up.
So I invite you, gentle readers, to interpret. What does my dream mean? Is it some kind of subconscious psychoanalysis? Is it prophecy, portending future events? Of is my childhood paleontological geekdom just colliding with my adult superhero geekdom with a side order of political paranoia?
This is what a dimetrodon looks like, in case you don't know:

And this is what Hillary Clinton looks like:

Which is scarier? You decide!
I'm walking on a path through the woods. It's a lovely day, sunny and warm, in a very nice park-like section of cheery woodland. On the path in front of me I see Hillary Clinton in a nice track suit half-walking half-jogging towards me. She is being pursued by a dimetrodon. I ask the Senator why she isn't running for her life. She explains that the dimetrodon is not very fast and that she is in no danger at her present pace. I look down the path and see that Mrs. Clinton is correct; the dimetrodon waddles at a pretty good clip, but it is easy to stay ahead of it.
I walk down a parallel path, tracking the progress of the dimetrodon as it chases the former First Lady. That's when I realize that the sail-finned pelycosaur is approaching a larger group of people down the path. While Hillary Clinton can be trusted to defend herself, not all the people picnicking in the woods are so resourceful. It's clearly time to act.
I rush up next to the dimetrodon and wrap my arms around its body. How I manage to encircle its three-foot-tall, rigid sail is, as Shakespeare would say, "the stuff dreams are made of." Using my super strength, I lift it off the ground. Naturally, the solution is to fly it back to where it came from, so I take to the air.
The dimetrodon, understandably concerned at being hoisted off the ground and flown away, especially with such a delectable Democrat just a few feet down the path, expresses its anger by biting my left hand. I am invincible, of course, and my skin cannot be pierced by the creature's teeth, but it hurts all the same. To discourage the animal from biting me further, I sink my own teeth into its right shoulder--just enough to warn, not to draw blood. Because that would be weird and gross, tasting the blood of a living mammal-like-reptile from the Permian Period. Surprised and chastened, the dimetrodon stops biting me.
That's when I woke up.
So I invite you, gentle readers, to interpret. What does my dream mean? Is it some kind of subconscious psychoanalysis? Is it prophecy, portending future events? Of is my childhood paleontological geekdom just colliding with my adult superhero geekdom with a side order of political paranoia?
This is what a dimetrodon looks like, in case you don't know:

And this is what Hillary Clinton looks like:

Which is scarier? You decide!
Labels: dreams, opinion, politics, prehistoric creatures